


Aegaeon's Knight

by TheInnocentMage



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Anxiety, Arena, Blood and Gore, Enemy Gods, Fighting, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Insomnia, Kidnapping, M/M, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Monsters, Percico - Freeform, Temporary Amnesia, Torture, Trance - Freeform, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-25 00:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9794798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheInnocentMage/pseuds/TheInnocentMage
Summary: When Percy is kidnapped, the camps search futilely for the hero of Olympus. But four years later with no trace of the Sea Prince, Percy's survival begins to be questioned. Then an encounter with a group of Cyclopes alerts the demigods that the son of Poseidon is alive. A seventeen year old Nico and immortal Jason, Leo and Hazel set out to rescue the Percy, but after inhuman torture, lost memories and fabricated loyalty, the Percy they find, isn't the one they lost. Percico.





	1. STANDING CLOSER TO THE EDGE

**AEGAEON'S KNIGHT**

**CH1 - STANDING CLOSER TO THE EDGE**

**I**

**"** YOU'RE HERE FOR EXCITEMENT... ENTERTAINMENT... AND **_BLOODSHED_!"**

Hundreds of voices, cheers and screams responded in confirmation. Nico looked down from the stands, black cloak draped around his shoulders and head, to watch as iron bars sink into the ground on one side of the arena. His face was shrouded, hidden from the prying eyes of onlookers and aiding his disguise amongst the crowds.

 **"** TODAY WE HAVE A NEW CHALLENGER. **"**

Bursting from the shadows of the arena opening, the Cyclops then proceeded to charge to the centre and let out a fierce battle cry. The audience cheered in anticipation. Nico gritted his teeth and disgust washed over his features. The monster held his spear high in the air and the cheers doubled in volume.

 **"** BUT WE COULDN'T MAKE IT THIS SIMPLE FOR OUR FAVOURITE **REIGNING** CHAMPION. **"**

Directly where the Cyclops had emerged, an empousa gracefully prowled forward. Her demonic appearance slowly coming into view as she stalked out of the shadows. Behind her, the iron bars begun to rise and a resounding click echoed the arena as they sealed the exit. She eyed the Cyclops suspiciously on her approach and let out a low growl. Nico flexed his hand nervously, watching as neither monster moved to attack the other - _yet_.

 **"** HE WILL FACE BOTH THESE WARRIORS IN A FIGHT TO THE DEATH. **"**

Nico instinctively glanced at the speaker, but quickly averted his gaze to the arena's floor. Around the circular seating three other figures, dressed in similar fashion to the son of Hades, stood tensely watching the scene unfold. Jason, Leo and Hazel all held some form of detachment. They all waited on bated breath as another set of iron bars, parallel to those which the two monsters had appeared from, noisily begun to lower into the ground.

 **"** NOW PLEASE WELCOME THE ONE AND ONLY **PERSEUS JACKSON**! **"**

Once again the crowd roared in approval, clapping, cheering, and most were on their feet with excitement. Nico slowly rose to get a better look at the silhouette stepping past the threshold and into the arena. His heart crawled all the way into his throat and he just managed to chock down a gasp.

Percy hadn't changed one bit in the three years he'd been missing, with his sea-green eyes and windblown black hair. The temporarily immortally this place cursed its occupants with, had left him not a day older than sixteen.

Bruises litter his face and decorate his bare lower arms. His shirt was ripped slightly with the sleeves pulled up to his elbows. Nico realises that the material which was once white is now stained dark with blood and dirt, and bile rises into his mouth.

Percy looks dazed, his expression listless and eyes glassy. His appearance was a far cry from the bright, energetic boy Nico had first fallen for. But it was without doubt Percy.

At first Nico failed to notice the bronze sword in his hand, one that was definitely not Riptide. He walks forward without resistance or protest, and the notion that Percy had lost his will to fight his captors cuts Nico like a knife. Every other step, Percy seems to stumble and it's clear his legs is wounded from whatever monster they made him fight last time. Nico glances up to lock eyes with Jason and nods. Carefully, he weaves between the crowds towards the edge where the seats merge with the steep wall lining the arena floor.

 **"** LET THE BATTLE BEGIN. **"**

The Cyclops was first to move. Lunging forward, he swung his spear at the demigod, only for Percy to dodge at the last moment. His body moved rigidly, striking the Cyclops on his calf and bringing him kneel. Percy moved beyond the monster's reach, but not before dealing a heavy blow to the arm holding the spear. Nico breathed terrified, Percy made it look effortless. But worse of all - it was for show. Percy could of easily finished the Cyclops off, but instead left him alive to entertain his spectators. Nico has a nagging feeling that is a lesson Percy was taught in pain, and time, and blood.

The empousa tried her luck next. Circling the son of Poseidon with a prowlness that could put a wolf to shame. Her hair blazed with a vengeance that lit her eyes aflame.

Percy tracked her every movement, waiting for a chance to strike. With each second she grew impatient, and after what felt like forever to Nico, she pounced forward. Her long talons were swift in catching Percy's shoulder and carving three long lesions into his flesh. Nico's heart plummeted at the small whimper that escaped the son of Poseidon's lips as he stumbled back to the floor. The empousa hissed in glee and the crowd roared with excitement.

But that moment of gloating she took, with her back turned and hands held high to receive empty praises, was all Percy needed. He gracefully, silently pulled himself to his feet. Then charged forward, plunging the sword through her back and out of her chest. The spectators fell still, before their voices resumed in cheers and screams. Nico watched the empousa choke, her eyes rolling back into her head. She swiftly began fading into that all too familiar gold dust.

 **"** AND THEN THERE WAS ONE! **"**

Percy turned, almost mechanically, to the Cyclops. He seemed a little more wary of the demigod this time as he stood slowly and approached. There was a fear in his eye, that Nico could best explain to a predator realising it had just become prey. He tighten his hold on the spear and swung mercilessly at Percy. The Cyclops' next attacks were much clumsier as panic started to take hold. Each time he failed to land a hit on his opponent. Percy ducked with ease, blocking or avoiding every swing.

The crowd began chanting Percy's name and stomping their feet. Nico smiled seeing the Cyclops' movements start to lag as fatigue set in. He flung the spear wide, trying to slice Percy chest, but the opening gave way for the demigod to sever the Cyclops' head clean from his body. Percy stepped aside as the corpse fell heavily to the ground. He lowered his sword and stood emotionlessly as the crowds shouted and chanted. Nico felt sick - it was now or never.

Putting both hands on the wall, he pulled himself up and leapt over. The fall ended swiftly as Nico landed with the grace of a cat. His cloak settled, his hood still covering most of his face. Slowly, he stood and looked up, the wall lining the arena donned scratches and claw marks undoubtedly from those trying escape a brutal death.

 **"** STOP HIM! **"**

But instead of immediate protests, the crowds begun jeering him on. There was a slight hesitation in the speaker's voice at Nico's unorthodox actions, but his confidence was quickly restored with the crowd's eagerness for more bloodshed.

 **"** WELL, IT SEEMS WE HAVE OURSELVES **_ANOTHER_** CHALLENGER. **"**

Nico's vision snapped back down to the eye level , when a thud another echoes the arena's pit. His lips twitched into a small smile, seeing Jason lose his balance on the landing and stagger left. Luckily, just like Nico, his cloak had remained in place.

 **"** _TWO_? TWO. WE HAVE TWO NEW CHALLENGERS! WHAT A TURN OF EVENTS. **"**

The Ghost King nodded at the blond, before diverting his attention back to Percy. The son of Poseidon looked half-aware, swaying on his feet, but his sword was still clutched tightly in his hand. Stepping forward, Nico held his hands up slightly. He kept his voice low so only Jason and Percy would hear.

"Percy, it's me. It's Nico. You need to snap out of it."

It pained the son of Hades at the lack of recognition in his cousin's eyes. The green-eyed boy dazedly staggered left and right, then held with sword tighter. Without any further warning, Percy lunged at Nico. If Jason hadn't run forward and looped his arms round Percy's waist to stop him, Nico would have received a sword through his chest. Next Jason tried to reach the sea prince.

"Bro, it's us. You can stop, we're here to rescue you."

Percy's only response was attempt to struggle free and snarl like some animal. The crowds screamed, egging both the hooded figures to gut their reigning champion.

"Percy, calm down." The son of Hades endeavours to sound commanding.

Jason yelped as Percy pushed backwards sending them both tumbling to the ground. He wriggled from the blond's arms and swung his blade, ready to slice the son of Zeus open. But this time it was Nico turn to restrain the sea prince. Jumping on top of the black-haired boy, Nico straddled his waist and put all his weight onto Percy's wrists to hold him down. Percy growls, _actually growls_ , and this close Nico can seen a dark fringe lining the son of Poseidon's sea-green eyes. He looks up to see Jason give Hazel and Leo a curt nod up in the stands. The signal to leave is understood causing the two demigods make their way through the crowd and out of sight. Jason moved quickly on heavy breaths, ripping the sword from Percy's hand. The arena lit up in thunderous applause.

 **"** KILL HIM, KILL HIM, KILL HIM. **"**

The son of Zeus circled Nico and Percy, attempting to appear as if he was ready to attack. Only to fool the crowds a little longer and buy the others some more time to slip away. Nico grunted as Percy twisted awkwardly underneath him.

"Jason, I can't hold him down much longer." He whispered with a fierceness.

The blond's eyes flickered to the stands then he lunged forward at Nico. Grabbing a fistful of the black jacket hidden beneath the cloak, he squeezed his eyes shut. Immediately, dark shadows rose from underneath and encompassed their bodies. The sounds of the crowds protests grew distant and the speaker calling guards to seize them vanished entirely.

.

.

.

 


	2. AND I'M GOING TO FALL

**CH2 - AND I'M GOING TO FALL**

**II**

. . .

THREE YEARS AGO

_THUD. . . THUD. . . THUD. . ._

Over and over and over again. The dull thudding somehow seems to emit from inside his head. Unwavering, painful, like broken, damaged church bells stuck on repeat. A constant presence since he woke up in this dark, small cell, some hours ago.

There's barely enough room to lay flat on the floor and the rough, stone walls climb higher than he can reach. With only his raging headache, and heartbeat to keep him company, Percy had soon fallen to calling out in demand to face his captors. The hot, wetness starting to dry on his forehead didn't go unnoticed. He may not be able to see anything, but the pain that sparked up when he tried to touch the area was enough to confirm his suspicions. Head injury. Not great. Not when he was laying, alone, and with his ears ringing in Hades knows where.

He remembers, albeit hazily, being within the safety of his cabin at Camp. Lounging on his bed and absently twirling riptide between his fingers when shadows rose from the lake.

His first thought is of Nico, perhaps his younger cousin had learnt a new skill? Then, as the ominous shadow approached Percy thought of Lord Hades. But it acted violently, tearing through his cabin and splintering wood before he had uncapped riptide. Percy's next attacks had been futile. Riptide slid through the shadows as if they were just air.

After a few graceful swings, it was clear that this attempts was hopeless. Percy had turned on his heels and ran. But he didn't even make it to his cabin door. One of the shadows solidified, slamming straight into his back and knocking him to the floor. The breath left his chest in shock, but he never gets the chance to recover. Another shadow billows down from above, right into the side of his head.

The next thing Percy knew was the darkness of this cell, four stone walls and an iron clad door. He shifts uncomfortably and winces as the hard floor scratches his skin through his thin clothes.

Looking down once again to feel the delicately forged Titan shackles on his wrists, Percy knows relying on his powers to get him the hell out of wherever this is, would be pointless. Deep beneath his skin, the itch spreads. In his arms at first, but now in his chest too. His powers twist and buckle, etching to escape, to be set free.

_The sea does not like to be restrained._

This detachment, inability to call on such a major part of himself, leaves Percy a little numb on the inside. He's not sure when, but one yawn leads to another and then a couple more. Not even his headache can keep his fatigue at bay, and Percy surrenders to a restless sleep.

.

..

...

Percy wakes up to the sight of boots. He has very little time to centre himself when one collides heavily with his chest. He winces and lets out a string of weak coughs. Hands like bands of steel wrap around his shoulders and pull him up like a ragdoll, holding him to face his masked assailant.

"Gonna tell me who you are? Or are we gonna play guess who?" He teases.

The right hook to his cheek is worth the pain and bruise that would undoubtedly form later on. Percy offers a trademark smirk, ignoring the stinging across his skin. The three strangers drag him kicking and struggling out of the cell. He puts up his best fight against their hold despite how the ringing in his ears has increased. Behind the door bangs shut. The relative silence that falls is broken only by the sound of their footsteps and Percy's grunting as he tries to struggle free. In the end, his body tires and he allows them to drag him forward. Each shaky breath makes his ribcage ache just that little bit more. The corridors became more elaborate, a maze to be honest, and at some point grimy stone turns to silky marble.

The colours cast through every shade of blue possible, speckle white like sea-foam. Raised fire pits boarded the vast expanse that ended in what seemed to be a throne room. Guards donned the sides, golden armour and emotionless expressions as the son of Poseidon is dragged past. The dizziness fades and Percy finds himself forced to kneel in front of a middle aged man, no older than thirty, his raven-kissed hair and clear blue eyes felt eerily familiar.

"Son of Poseidon," he greets. "Welcome to my humble abode, I am Aegaeon. God of storms of the Aegean Sea. I've been most bored of recent, your presence here will be quite. . . entertaining." The man's smile deepens with a wickedness.

"I was beginning to think you'd forgotten me." Percy drawls out sarcastically.

The man on the black throne just smirked.

"What do you what? I don't have anything-"

"-Want?" He chuckles darkly. "My dear little sea prince, I want you. Your strength, your loyalty, your _obedience_."

"I'm sorry but I missed that part where I was for sale."

"I take what I want, little one. I don't borrow." He reassures the young demi-god.

"If you think I belong to you now or something crazy like that, you're mistaken. My friends-"

"-won't ever find you here." Finished the God. "My palace, my arena is beyond the Fates' sight. This place never ages, never fades, even when time itself disappears my home will still remain."

"We'll see about that." Percy bites back uncertainly. "But one thing is for sure, I'll never serve you." He spat.

"That," he practically sings. "Is exactly what I wanted to hear. A prize stallion has to be broken in before it can be ridden. I don't doubt you'll present any less of a challenge. . . But I will make you yield, son of Poseidon."

Percy holds his head up and meets that man's intense gaze.

"You can try." He whispers dangerously.

The man pitches forward laughing and Percy tenses as the masked guards once again lift him to his feet.

"Take him back to the cell, his reconditioning starts tomorrow. We have no reason to rush. I want to enjoy this for a long as possible."

"Yes, my Lord." They chorus.

Percy struggles all the way back to the cell, this time making sure to map the route they take in his head. He's pushed into the dark, heavy Titan shackles still around his wrists and cutting into his flesh. But before he can even turn around the iron door slams shut. Heart aching and stomach crawling, Percy sinks against the far wall. Closing his eyes, he fights back the fear. He needs to survive this. Even if it's only long enough to apologise to Nico one last time.

.

..

...

Percy waits with bated breath for his cell door to open again. Whatever lay behind these stone walls was nothing compared to Tartarus. At least, that's what the son of Poseidon keeps telling himself. He misses Camp, wonders what everyone's doing at the moment - if they're looking for him, if they really care. He hates the thought of putting Annabeth through this all over again. Not knowing if he's alive or dead, safe or in danger.

These thoughts don't keep him entertained for long. As the cell door clicks open, Percy's on his feet ready to take down the next breathing thing he sees. The guards seem just as prepared, ramming him straight into the back wall of the cell, where Percy's head collides directly with hard stone. Dizzy and confused, they take advantage of his inability to coordinate his movements and lock the Titan shackles in place behind his back. Percy staggers forward, not before kneeing one of the guards in the chest. He grunts and retaliates with a swift punch to the son of Poseidon's face. The ringing returns tenfold, and the back of his head pulses, heavily, blearily.

Percy falls bonelessly to the ground with a small whimper. His forehead had burning with fire as he powers push, push, push to be free. Caged within his body and demanding freedom. Demanding to be a part of this fight. The guards pick him up by the shoulders and drag him down a different layout of corridors from before. Percy absently watches the small shadows cast by torches on the walls. Each movement flickers hope in his chest, as he wishes Nico would burst through with the others. But what little chance is that? Nico hates him, barely tolerates his presence. Every sentence cut short, every word bitten out. Harsh and cold. Nico would never come to save him.

Reaching a dimly lit room, Percy's manhandled into a metal chair and strapped down. His eyes flicker to the source of discomfort at his shoulder, and widen at the sight of blue liquid disappearing from a syringe into his flesh.

It's cold.

 

it's cold,

 

it's cold.

 

it's cold-

 

 

\- and then it _burns_.


	3. ONLY HANGING BY A THREAD

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to the fantastic Shad0wcat, who edited this chapter for me!
> 
> I'm so sorry for not updating in so long, I don't like to be the person who makes lots of excuses but I simply had too much school work to deal with. I would like to finish this story and will try my best to continue with it.

**~**

**AEGAEON'S KNIGHT**

**CH3 - ONLY HANGING BY A THREAD**

**III**

A peculiar weightlessness is the first sensation that greets Percy when he wakes. The world drifts like he's underwater. His thoughts float hazily, and as his eyes begin to slip shut again his stomach lurches. It twists, raging over its prolonged emptiness. Percy coughs and splutters as sour bile rises in his dry throat and chokes him. Every sound he makes seems dim to his ears, every twinge of pain a little dampened. He barely registers the slap across his face or the way his skin tingles pleasantly and the laughter that follows.

The wave of dizziness that crashes over Percy's mind is anything but pleasant. It bounces off the inside of his skull, his barren stomach screaming in protest. Glassy eyes that clash somewhere between blue and green struggle to focus on the blurry silhouette in front of them.

"I'll tell ya,” the figure says, “it's no fun when they're this far out of it."

"It affects all seaborne creatures the same,” someone off to the side answers. “'S what the handlers use to keep them water nymphs docile."

"So I could do anything and he won't complain?"

"Not a word," the other promises. "He's high as a fucking cloud."

The person closest to Percy chuckles. (At least, he thinks it’s a person.) A hand cups his cheek before slowly sliding down to hold his chin, but the son of Poseidon isn't sure if it's real or not as his heavy eyelids begin to droop.

Another slap stings his cheek, and this time it’s definitely real.

Percy's vision focuses sharply if only for a moment, and he is met by the youthful face of a boy who looks perhaps a year or so older than him.

"I don't think so, sleeping beauty. The fun's just about to begin."

A hand travels down his chest, unbuttoning his shirt as it goes. Percy fails to hold back the small moan on his lips as a pair of fingers slip below his waistband. Electricity jumps along his skin and everything feels hypersensitive.

"That's enough,” the other voice snaps, disgust lacing his tone. “He's here for Lord Aeraegon's entertainment, _not_ yours."

" _Come on_ ,” the boy protests. “It's not like he forbade us from a little taste test."

Hot lips press against his, wet and predatory. Percy opens his eyes to see cruel blue ones staring back, wisps of dark blond hair framing the other boy's face. A hand slips back down into his trousers and Percy lets out a low, louder moan as the boy applies more pressure.

"See? He's enjoying it." Something akin to approval colours his tone. "And anyway, we can always make him forget this too."

He presses his mouth to Percy’s again, stealing his breath. The son of Poseidon arches his back, the high floaty feeling pulsing through his veins. It keeps him compliant under the boy's touch and amplifies every moment of contact.

"That's _enough_ ,” he hears. “You have a job to do."

The boy breaks the kiss and pulls away, leaving Percy panting heavily, his jeans feeling a little too tight.

"Can't keep your hands to yourself for five minutes, can you Sam? Just-"

"-don't let Lord Aegaeon find out,” Sam finishes, sounding bored. “I know, _I know_. Now let's get to work on these memories."

Percy whimpers pathetically when the touch disappears, turning his stomach cold. He's weightless again, quickly drifting away with nothing to ground him.

Sam smirks. "And here I thought a child of the Big Three would be a challenge."

"It's the drugs,” the other voice grumbles. “I had to give him three times the normal dosage. You wouldn't even survive a single."

"Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence," Sam bites back.

"Don't mention it. But they only make handling him easier. Erasing memories isn't an exact science- it's just hit or miss. After that, rewriting them will be a test of his willpower. The drugs will only make him a bit more flexible and open to suggestion."

"Alright, alright. Enough with the lecture already."

A sigh. Some movement. Then, a few seconds later, a heavy band clamps around Percy's head, pitching him forward with the weight.

"Now, let's see how well this works."

A sharp jolt through Percy's brain causes him to flinch back and twist in his chair. Another, and another, and another until the son of Poseidon cannot differentiate between himself and the pain. It travels down his spine, dancing along his nerves and bleeding through his fingertips. It _hurts, it hurts, it hurts_. His mind burns. Someone speaks to him, gentle and calming, asking him questions with meanings are far beyond his reach. _What do they want? What would it take to stop this pain?_

His lips move, but Percy cannot hear the sound that leaves them.

 

_Pain._

_Pain._

_Pain._

 

Then quiet.

 

Numbness spreads through his shaking body and all that's left is a dull ringing in his ears. Unfamiliar dark blue eyes stare into Percy's own.

"Get the guards to take him back to his cell,” the boy says, turning to his partner beside him. “Give it time for the drugs to wear off and hopefully we'll see some results.”

He looks back at Percy.

"I hope, for your sake, that we do."

.

..

...

The ground beneath him seeps cold through his clothes. Percy pushes himself up to sit, his back resting against the stone wall of the cell. His muscles ache like he's swam fifty laps across Long Island Sound and his head drums with a migraine. The last thing he can remember is eating breakfast in the pavilion, but after that everything is dark. It's weird, surreal almost, like waking up from a dream and knowing it happened but forgetting all the details. If he was kidnapped, Percy wonders just how hard they must have hit him.

The shackles around his wrists scream of long term planning. Someone knew exactly what he was doing and who he was dealing with, giving Percy no chance of escape. He sighs, begging his sea-borne powers to settle and stop pushing so painfully against the restraints.

And he waits. Guards arrive to march him down to an eerily familiar room. A chilling sense of déjà vu ripples through his chest and Percy struggles wildly as a syringe is  stabbed into his arm.

. 

He feels like a song stuck on repeat, being played again. . .

.

_And again. . ._

_._

_And again._

_._

 

Exhaustion cripples him, threatening to tip him over the edge and into oblivion. Percy desperately claws at the wisps of thought that float sparingly across his mind. Two handlers drag him by the arms through unfamiliar marble corridors. His head spins as Percy tries to recall where he is and what day, month, or year he’s in. His limbs remain uncooperative and after a few failed attempts at finding his footing, Percy all but gives up. Slumping forward makes him dizzy, his head lolling onto his chest as his eyes drift shut. The peace doesn't last. He's shoved downwards into a kneeling position and his eyes snap open, partially blinded by the sudden bright light. A hand grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls back so he's looking upwards.

A throne comes slowly into focus along with an unfamiliar man.

"And how are we today, Perseus?" The man waits patiently, drumming his fingers on the throne's armrest. "What? No smart remarks, no snappy replies? We must be tired." He sneers at him. "But I also tire of this. It's been five months, Perseus. But I think we've finally made some progress. Now, you have two choices, so listen carefully."

The guard tightens his grip on Percy’s hair and he winces.

"One,” the man counts off with his fingers. “We can continue with this until you lose your mind, as entertaining as that would be. Or two, you can stop attacking my guards and start obeying orders. So what's it going to be?"

Percy's mouth moves without his brain fully processing it. "I’d rather die than do anything you’d ask of me." His words are slurred but strong, and they feel right on his tongue although he's not one hundred percent sure of their meaning.

The man scowls at him. "Sadly, that wasn't an option, Perseus. You disappoint me." He motions for the guards to take the exhausted demigod away. "Break him completely,” he says, the words echoing throughout the vast marble room.

.

..

...

Percy's next lucid moments are spent underwater. A hand holds his head in a tub as he struggles, trying to resurface. The shackles around his wrists rub his skin raw and block his powers. For the first time ever, Percy understands what it feels like to _drown_. Water floods his throat as his lungs finally give in, and just as his body sags they pull him up. He chokes and splutters, teetering on the verge of unconsciousness. He looks up with wild eyes as jagged breaths fill his tired chest. Then, just as he regains his bearings, he’s shoved under again. Percy thrashes and tries to fight, but his body weakens. Deprived of oxygen, there's only so far adrenaline can take him. His powers roar under his skin, so close to his element yet sealed so deeply away. The scratches that decorate his body give a poor indication of just how painfully they push to be released. If the water doesn't drown him, this feeling will. He passes out soon after the twelfth round. He’s exhausted, confused and maybe, _maybe_ questioning the worth of fighting back. He can't remember why he’s even trying, after all- he just has the lingering feeling that he should. And strangely, Percy doesn't think that will last.

.

..

...

Each new day brings a different kind of torture, designed to push him further and further towards the edge. They tie Percy out in the sun and leave him there. He watches blearily as it rises and has long since passed out by midday. That night, he shakes, his skin reddened and numbingly sore. Another time, they strap Percy up high, his feet barely scuffing a ledge he tries desperately to support his weight on. They leave him on the verge of choking until he passes blissfully out, and later that night they half drown him again. Somewhere between the start and end of this, Percy starts to see ghosts of the forgotten. His mother appears first, gently brushing his sweat-drenched hair to the side.

"It's okay, sweetheart, it's okay," she murmurs. "It's time to give up. You've been so brave, but it's time to give up."

Percy falters. He leans into her touch, her cool fingers soothing his fever-flushed skin, but still he resists. Slowly shaking his head, Percy closes his eyes and waits for her to vanish.

It's dark when he wakes. The sliver of silver that shines in the corner of his cell quickly catches his attention. Bianca sits there, one leg hooked under the other, her elbow resting on one knee.

"You've got to stop this," she pleads, her face as youthful as the day they met. "You'll die, Percy. So please, _please_ stop resisting."

His first mistake is looking the Hunter in the eyes. Everything falls apart after that. Percy cries and cries despite his chapped lips and burning skin. He whispers apologies until they become a mantra, a pry that carries on through the night. Bianca disappears with the morning. But she may have well stayed, because Percy has memorised every detail of her face, her dark brown beach curls, the freckles over her nose.

The torment his captors inflict upon him that day barely reach the sea prince's far-gone mind.

Jason and Thalia appear as he's being beaten to a pulp. Blood and sweat blur his vision, distorting their horrified faces. They yell and scream and cry at him to run. But that's cruel, because Percy watched as the guards tied the Titan shackles to the wooden post that extinguished any hope of escape for him. Sick blues and purples paint his skin and crimson bleeds out onto the floor, all while Jason and Thalia’s desperate calls fall fainter and fainter onto Percy’s dulling ears.

He doesn't notice when they leave. He's half-conscious or maybe half-dead when water is poured down his throat. Unable and unwilling to resist, he drinks greedily, only to immediately throw up a mix of bile and water. It doesn't deter his captors- they grab him by the throat and force him to drink through his coughs.

They don't wait for Percy to recover even slightly. He wakes up, tied down in the sun again. Only this time, they’ve lit fires around him. Every inch of his body screams for release, his powers rattling at their fleshy prison. It doesn't take long before he’s passed out again. He sees Annabeth's frightened face above as she kneels down just as his world goes dark.

 

.

..

...

 

When wakes again it's to the sound of rain. The cool water seeps through the ceiling, dripping down teasingly. Sometimes it splashes onto his raw skin, but most of the time it’s wasted on the floor. He weakly turns his head to survey his surroundings and freezes. The cell is the same except someone is lying next to him. He registers a ruffled dark brown jacket with a skull t-shirt hidden beneath along with worn black sneakers and jeans. Even through his waning vision Percy can recognise Nico's silhouette. Pale features and brown eyes slowly come into focus. He knows he's going crazy when the son of Hades _smiles_ at him.

"It's okay, Percy," Nico whispers, his faint Italian accent lingering at the end of each word. "You're safe now."

Percy feels his fingers stop trembling as the son of Hades slips his hand into them.

"Nico,” Percy rasps, “ Nico. . . I'm sorry. . ."

The other boy hushes him quietly, rolling over onto his side to place a hand on Percy's cheek. The tension immediately leeches out of his abused muscles as Nico rubs his thumb over his cheekbone.

"It's okay,” the Ghost King says quietly. “I forgave you a long time ago. But I need you to do something for me, Percy."

Percy nods weakly, and Nico continues.

"I need you give in.” His expression is serious. “Can you do that for me, Percy?"

And this time, finally, with spiderlike hands and a sweet voice urging him to rest, the last of his willpower vanishes, and Percy nods again.

Nico smiles, but his eyes are dark, and if Percy had the clarity of mind to notice, he’d say they almost looked sad.

"It's going to be okay, Percy. Like falling into a deep sleep."

His eyelids feel heavy. The clang of the cell door opening has Percy neither flinching nor preparing to fight for his escape. Guards haul up his lifeless body and drag him out into the hallway. Percy struggles to hold his head up long enough to glance back, but Nico is gone, and soon, Percy will be too.

They dump him onto a metal-framed chair, strap his wrists down as if he could run away and tighten something heavy around his forehead. Just like the first time.

"So Lord Aeraegon wants us to erase his memories completely?"

Percy hears, but he isn’t really listening.

"Yeah, apparently so," the other guard answers.

"Seems like a waste."

"Orders are orders."

"Dude, he's practically gonna be a zombie. What fun is that?"

He hears footsteps and the rattling of something metallic.

"Not my problem. Is the machine set up?"

"Yeah. Good to go."

A quiet click, and a whirring noise fills the room.

"Ready. Charge."

Electricity crackles in his ears, his head feels unbearably hot for several agonizing seconds, and then Percy...

 

... _forgets_.

 

**~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review and let me know what you think! :)


	4. IN THE END I'M JUST A PUPPET AFTER ALL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, this was only possible to the extraordinary Sha0wcat, who took their time to edit this chapter and make it 100% better! Thank you so much! :)

**AEGAEON’S KNIGHT**

**CH4 - IN THE END I'M JUST A PUPPET AFTER ALL**

**IV**

Hands on his shoulders and marble-donned floors that wane in and out of focus. Tattered, weather-worn boots stumble every other step, but the handlers only tighten their hold, never letting him fall. Swords at their sides and gloved fingers are the first things that flutter into his hazy awareness, followed groggily by the sight of shadows, borne of bright torches. The world darkens, then sparks back to life, deciding to

_repeat. . . repeat. . . repeat. . ._

He sways drunkenly as they guide him around another corner, taking most of his weight before hauling him back up onto his feet again. Silence walks beside them, encasing the corridors, betrayed only by the echoing **_THUDS_** of their heavy boots.

Eventually his handlers halt, and the hands on his shoulders gently pull him back as he absently continues. They stand at the threshold, waiting for something. Then, like a child, he is lead to the end of the hall, passing bronzed basins filled with coal burning hot, but not bright.

He recognises this place, the silver-masked guards and breathtakingly blue stone walls. Yet, like a faded dream or burnt photograph, it itches just beneath the surface of knowing, just a little too far out of his reach. Gently, and strangely foreign, the handlers guide him down to kneel. He stays there, his limbs compliant and mind too disoriented to ask for a reason.

“Perseus! Words cannot define how relieved I am to see you."

A man sits before him on a throne. Only after he finishes speaking do the guards at Percy’s sides release their hold on him, but the whole situation is so falsely sweet and insincere that he can taste the wrongness of it on his own tongue.

"These last nine months have been. . . _difficult_. But you have not disappointed me, Perseus- you survived. I was worried we'd never get through to you, so stubborn. . ." The man muses distantly. "Just like your daddy."

He drums his fingers once, twice on his armrest before abruptly rising to stand. One sharp, cat-like smile and he's advancing down the steps toward the demigod.

"Pity thou, that he'll never get to see how great you'll become." The man kneels down in front of him and grabs his chin with one hand. "How great I will make you." He smirks and stands, tilting Percy's head back with the motion. "You belong to me now, Perseus. You are my Knight. My Champion. Welcome to my Arena."

The man looks to the guards and gives a small nod.

Hands are once again on his shoulders within moments, pulling him rapidly to his feet. The jolt sends a wave of darkness across his vision and he pitches forward.

An amused chuckle sounds from the man. "Let me rest tonight. Tomorrow marks a new dawn."

The words seem quieter towards the end, or perhaps, it's just him. Percy stumbles backwards into a blackness that feels strangely like many hands taking support of his exhausted body.

**.**

**..**

**...**

**..**

**.**

There's dust on his fingertips.

It's dry and scratchy. Following the lines on his skin, collecting in his eyes and coating a thin grey layer over his knees as well. Desperately and in vain, he attempts to stand from his position on all fours.

"Again! Again, Perseus!" The handler snarls. "Get up!"

He looks up through blurry eyes to meet the man's narrowing gaze.

A boot to his chest has Perseus remembering his opponent, the fight, and scrambling for the sword they gave him. It feels wrong, awkward between his fingers. The leather-bound handle carries a deep unevenness, causing each swing to feel unbalanced and making each movement sloppy. Distantly, Perseus feels like he's missing something important. Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the handler's scowling eyes.

"You’re meant to be the best." He hisses. "Now prove it."

Perseus fingers graze the hilt and he rolls to stand with a strength he did not poses moments before. The sword holds his opponent at a fair distance as they circle each other. It's easier not to make the first move- expending energy he doesn't have on futile attacks would be his downfall. So, Perseus waits. He waits for the other to cave, to allow panic to take hold and trip him up. And eventually, it does.

The boy lunges forward, and Perseus aims for his legs, impassively watching him collapse in the aftermath. He moves quickly after that, kicking the boy's sword far from his reach and resting a boot on his chest, shattering any chance of escape.

"Too quick!" The handler shouts angrily. "I know you can beat him! Your orders are to prolong the fight!"

Guards appear either side of him, grabbing his arms and dragging him back from his opponent. The boy beneath him splutters and coughs as the pressure of the boot is removed. The handler walks over and helps him to his feet. He pats him on the shoulder and whispers something his ear. The boy shakes with each breath and it takes Perseus a while to realise it's not exhaustion, but _fear_.

When the boy steps to oppose him once again, Perseus lunges forward. But the guards tighten their grip to the threshold of pain and pull him stumbling back. A hand slaps him harshly across the face causing Perseus to inhale sharply. The handler comes into blurry focus. Perseus frowns at the fire in his eyes.

"You will fight when you are commanded.” He growls, causing Perseus to flinch. “You do not move, you do not speak, you do _not_ do anything without my permission. You. Are. A. Puppet.”

Stepping back, the handler looks between him and the boy. “Now. . . _Begin_.”

Perseus ignores the aching, the exhaustion, the cuts and scratches lacing his battered body, and moves forward to attack.

**.**

**..**

**...**

**..**

**.**

_Was there something before this? Or maybe. . . someone?_ The question remains like a thorn in his mind. Those moments just before he blinks, just out of the corner of his eye, there’s a shadow. A silhouette that doesn’t completely take shape. But, strangely, it fills the hollowness in him with a warmth against the pain and the cold. Through the fractions in his mind there’s brown eyes and black hair that appears brown in soft sunlight. There’s laughter and sorrow and guilt and desire and the hope that follows the need to be forgiven. Maybe it’s a dream, an illusion, created to torture him, to test him. Because when his eyes search for the figure, it disappears like a ghost and in its absence, Perseus. . .

. . . _forgets_.

**.**

**..**

**...**

**..**

**.**

They give him words. Ones that slip from his tired mind almost instantly, but they push him deeply underwater and into the darkness of the abyss. By the time he resurfaces, there's no memories of _how_ or _where_ or _what_ happened since that moment. There's only lost time.

And wounds on his body.

.

..

...

..

.

Everything plays on repeat.

Over and over. Again and again. He trains, he bleeds, he sleeps. He trains, he bleeds, he obeys. It becomes muscle memory, his body fights without reason, without cause. His insides remain hollow, carved out by the tsunami that his Titan shackles lock away.

He trains and trains. Over and over. Again and again.

Then, one day. . . something changes.

The handlers seem so eager, some are even smiling. He knows only the walls of his cell, the clash of swords, and the dust of the training grounds. So, when the guards lead him down different corridors to a new room, one donned with weapons and armour everywhere in sight. _He_ \- _just_ \- _knows_.

From behind, girls approach. Their skin holds a dusky blue at their cheekbones, and their beautifully plated hair is entwined effortlessly with shells. Two handlers step on either side of him and grip his shoulders, guiding him forward to follow the girls. He waits patiently for the handlers to give orders to attack. But instead, they stop and hold him there. The girls begin to dress him in various pieces of armour. A leather breastplate, arm guards, pauldrons, and finally, they slide a silver helmet over his head.

His next few minutes are hazy. More corridors, more walking. The guards lead him to a stone-walled room with a sandy floor and iron bars at the far end. The guards move him to the boundary cast by the bars’ shadows, and Percy registers that at some point, a handler had stepped in front of him.

There's voices, shouts, cheers from beyond the room, loud and echoing in the open air. The stone walls around him seem to vibrate with the noise. The handler looks at him and smiles eerily, as if recalling some cruel inside joke.

" _Hunter,_

_Cloudburst,_

_Nine,_

_Earth,_

_Dawn,_

_Teacup,_

_Seven,_

_Hurricane_."

The ground beneath him disappears, and Percy-

falls to oblivion.

.

..

...

..

.

Awareness greets him slowly, piercing through a veil of nothingness like sunlight through old, frayed curtains. He's back in his cell. It's dark and cold, meaning dusk had come and gone, leaving behind the coolness of night. He waits and he feels.

 _Everything_.

His body aches with a vengeance, every muscle burning. There's a heaviness on his left shoulder, and even without the light he can smell the metallic stench of blood. It hurts, hurts, _hurts_. He whimpers as he slides down against the far wall. ‘ _Breathe, breathe_ ,’ he tells himself dully. There's nothing else he can do but breathe.

.

..

…

..

.

Repeat, repeat, repeat. He gains new wounds and keeps old ones. Even water does not soothe the pain, and yet, he cannot quite understand why that notion is odd to him. He loses time over and over again to the Handlers. There's nothing but dark memories that hold only blankness.

And then, the shadow that has followed him like a curse, just beyond his line of sight, takes form.

Brown eyes, so full of sorrow, tug him partially from the abyss' hold. His chest stings and his leg aches dully with the pressure of his body. There's a sword in his hand and a boy standing slightly taller in front of him. A voice sounds above the cheers and screaming surrounding them.

 **"** _TWO?_ TWO. WE HAVE TWO NEW CHALLENGERS! WHAT A TURN OF EVENTS! **”**

He pays it no heed. It’s not important; he has orders to follow. Staggering right then left, he works through his body’s bleeding exhaustion to grip his sword tighter.

“Percy, it’s me. It’s Nico. You need to snap out of it.”

The words grate across his awareness, and something laying deep and dormant inside of him stirs. Rippling to life like the waters of a still pond disturbed by a fish, then igniting like a flame fed with gasoline. He charges straight at the brown-eyed boy. No thought, no feeling, just poise and precision.  

Except. . . he doesn't quite make it as something- someone wraps their arms around his chest and tugs him backwards.

 _Another opponent?_ He wonders.

“Bro, it’s us. You can stop, we’re here to rescue you.”

 _Apparently so._ Perseus snarls as he fails to struggle free, spurred on by the crowd’s jeering.

“Percy, calm down.” The brown-eyed boy commands.

But he does not obey the orders of his opponents, only his Handlers. Pushing backwards, he sends both himself and the second attacker tumbling to the ground, taking advantage of that moment of brief confusion to strike down the blond one. He fails, however, and the first boy tackles him, straddling his waist and pinning his wrists to the Arena floor. Perseus struggles uselessly against his assailant. The growl that rips from his throat is feral and born of a frustration he doesn’t remember ever feeling before.

The blue-eyed boy circles.

Once, twice, then he moves quickly, kicking the sword from his hand. The arena lights up in thunderous applause.

“KILL HIM, KILL HIM, KILL HIM,” they chant, their loyalties turned like sharks that smell blood.

The pressure in his skull and throughout his body continues to build, awakened by the brown-eyed boy’s words. It hurts more than any physical torture and the exhaustion that courses through his veins. Perseus whimpers as he twists blindly. Not to escape his assailant’s vice-like hold, but to be free of this raw, forgotten, untameable force that has been caged for too long. His focus on the fight is lost. Everything is burning, a searing fire dancing and licking his insides.

“Jason, I can’t hold him down much longer,” the boy grunts, his damp yet feathery hair framing his strained face.

Shadows consume his body and the arena, and the crowds, the red sky above just disappear. And as quickly as he’s gone, Percy lands on something soft and giving. The brown-eyed boy remains on top of him, holding him down as he thrashes and cries out in shock and confusion.

“Percy, it’s alright,” The boy’s voice promises, urges. “You’re safe, you’re safe now. It’s alright.”

But it’s not. It’s not alright. The power he feels is consuming him, eating away at his last remnants of strength. It’s killing him.

“ _Percy!_ ”

“Perce!”

“Percy!”

“Nico, get away from my son. All of you, now,” a powerful voice commands.

“Sir-”

“ _NOW, DI ANGELO!_ ” It bellows. “Those shackles are restraining his powers. If he is not released, Percy will die.”

The weight disappears from his chest almost instantly, but he barely notices. A hand grips over the white-hot metal at his wrists, replacing the burning with a coolness that relief scarcely begins to describe. A staggering lightness follows as the shackle is completely removed, and repeats when his other wrist is freed. The hand moves to hold his own, and the sounds of the sea rush into the air, louder and louder, until it’s fully raging. Perseus shakes with the power that flows through him, his back arching and pupils widening until his ocean-green irises have all but been swallowed. Voices call out to him, trying in earnest to reach his scattered mind, but all but one fail. The brown-eyed boy. The one who started this. He twists his head to the side, catching the fear carved into his face and the way the boy’s muscles twitch.

Maybe mere seconds or maybe an eternity later, his power settles. He lies still, drawing in deep heavy breaths, sweat dripping down his face, and stares almost unseeingly up at the ceiling. The rough fingers that broke the shackles caress his cheek, moving to brush away the hair stuck to his forehead, and finally resting there in gentle reassurance.

“Shh, Percy, my son. Sleep. You’re safe now. You’re home.”

.

.

.

**Author's Note:**

> Please review ad let me know what you think :)


End file.
